


Time and Reflection

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-12
Updated: 2001-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin decides he needs time to reflect on the change in his relationship with Chris little realizing that time was something they might not have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time and Reflection

Saturday night was always the worst night of the week, full of cowboys releasing a lot of the pent up cares of the long week with a show of rowdy exuberance. It was the night when they cut loose from the nearby ranches and descended upon the town--and its saloon--on mass. Most of the decent folk kept to their homes on this night of every week, preferring to avoid the trouble that always followed the rowdy ranch hands into town. When Saturday fell at the end of the month it was ten times worse as they swarmed into the saloon with dollars burning a hole through their pockets.

As always on a Saturday night, the Seven were ranged around the saloon, keeping an eye out in the hope of heading off any trouble before it got started; the gentle rivalry of the different outfits turning to aggression once alcohol was thrown into the mix. As Josiah and Buck waded in to pull apart another group before they bust up the saloon, Chris heaved a deep sigh.

He sloshed another shot of whiskey into his glass, his fingers curling around it and bringing it up to his lips where he downed the red-eye in one, the fire of the amber liquid bringing a sting to his eyes as it burned its way down his throat, spreading its warmth through his belly.

He thought he could be content to stay here in this town, the presence of six decent men to protect his back had made it a good prospect but, despite the friendship that had started to fill the void in his soul, there was still something missing in his life. At first he thought this emptiness might be filled by Mary Travis and her young son, and he was certain that Buck felt this was the case too. Why else would the ladies man make no play for the beautiful widow? However, the more he learned of her the less he liked her and soon realized that what he had seen was but a glimmer of the life he had lost... a pale reflection of Sarah and Adam. He wondered if she would ever understand how much he had loved his wife and child, and how much he had longed to have that life back, but Mary was no Sarah and Billy was certainly no Adam. His Adam had been such a sweet child, like his mother, full of life, full of respect and yet such a gentle spirit. In contrast Billy was rude and boisterous, all fire, and willing to bend the truth as he saw fit--just like his mother. It was not a trait he found endearing in anyone, let alone in mother and child.

It was also obvious to him that she had no great passion for him, otherwise, why had she agreed to marry another man? Gerard had fitted her ideal for a husband: strong, handsome, family orientated... certainly not part of the bad element. He sneered when he realized that it was probably the darkness in his character that drew her even as it repulsed her.

He frowned as he took a slower sip at the next glass of whiskey.

There was great passion in the woman but it was self-centered, self-serving, and anyone who fell outside of that criteria soon found themselves being slowly pushed out of town. He grimaced, wondering how much longer his own presence--or any of the Seven's--would be tolerated here. Civilization was gradually overtaking them, pushing back the frontiers of the west and there would come a time when Mary Travis had no need for hired guns to protect the small empire she was building; although she might not be so fast to grasp at it after the last time the services of the Seven were dispensed with so casually.

He drained the last of the whiskey from the glass with another grimace, lips curling back from his teeth as the red-eye burned a hole in his gut.

He wondered what had possessed him to agree to protect the pious residents of this small, insignificant town for a mere dollar a day, then realized that he was not doing it for them: he was doing it for himself. He needed the respite, a time to stop and take stock of his life before it ended with a bullet to the gut or heart. He had spent three self-destructive years on the trail, trying to bury his grief, having too much pride to allow himself to sink to the bottom of a whiskey glass. He glanced around the room, watching the life that was passing him by and hating himself for refusing to take the coward's way out when he had the chance. Every day hurt, though no longer just for Sarah and Adam and, in his half-drunk state, he found he could freely admit to what kept him in this town when every other instinct told him to move on.

Vin Tanner.

It had started with a single glance towards the hardware store as his eyes caught the familiar shape of a rifle. Their eyes had met across the wide, dusty street, volumes said and pacts made with just a curt nod of the head. In some ways it frightened Chris, knowing that he could be read so easily by a complete stranger but, as the months passed, he had come to rely on that connection, reading each other's thoughts and planning strategies with no more than a few words passing between them.

And then came a new look, a look he could not decipher at first, mainly because he had been afraid of what that look meant to both of them. That look had taken them beyond simple friendship but Chris had to ask himself--was he ready for the intimacy that beckoned within those sky blue eyes?

The thought of being with another man held no fear and, although he had always had a preference for women, these were hard times when women were often scarce at a time when a man needed some comfort. It was not unusual to turn to another man for that relief, just something that was not spoken of except around the camp fire on the long, lonely stretches between nowhere.

No. It was not the thought of intimacy with another man that caused the blood to freeze in his veins, even as his senses burned, taking him from one extreme to another. It was the man in question. Intimacy with Vin could not be a one-night affair. Vin was no nameless, faceless whore bought by the hour, nor was he some lonely cowboy, bored with his own hand, seeking a few sweaty moments of release with another human being no matter what gender his partner took.

Vin Tanner was someone who knew him and understood him, far better than he knew or understood himself. Even Sarah had never truly understood all that drove him but Vin did and he could accept every part of Chris from the boyish innocence that still lingered to the hardened killer that he had become. The lost and scarred shell of a man he had become after losing his family had started to refill with life, every one of the Six playing their own role in that process--but Vin had been the catalyst.

With a few belts of whiskey curling inside him, taking the intensity of his thoughts and subduing them in its alcoholic haze, Chris decided that, maybe it was time to face his fears and see whether the missing part of his soul could be found in Vin.

****

The evening had started pretty fine; the setting sun casting deep shadows that slowly devoured the length of the main street, the alleyways between the buildings becoming dark mysterious worlds where only a truly discerning eye could tell one shade of near-blackness from another.

Vin Tanner had such a discerning eye and he walked without fear towards the saloon, drawn by the light spreading into the darkness through its windows, by the lively sounds of voices and, more importantly, by the possible presence of a certain blond-haired, dark-clad gunslinger. As he pushed aside the batwing doors he scanned the interior, a scowl marring his handsome face when he failed to spot the familiar figure within the crowded interior. A stab of jealousy pierced his heart as he imagined Chris holed up in his room with some willing whore... or worse still, indulging in the amorous attentions of the Printer's widow and her uncouth child. The barely discernible scowl dropped from his face when a gap in the ever moving crowd of drunken revelers parted for an instant and he spotted a halo of spun gold in the far corner. Chris was alone--and this suited Vin just fine.

Vin slipped into the seat next to Chris, taking up a position that offered him a full view of both the room and Chris. He smiled as the almost full bottle of whiskey was shoved across the table top towards him in welcome, another smaller grin crossing his face as the eagle-eyed Inez sent a shot glass to the table.

Vin poured himself a drink and downed it fast, barely controlling the shudder as the potent liquor blazed a trail of fire from throat to gut. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, deciding then and there not to drink too much of the gut rot alcohol. Chris broke the silence first.

"Quiet out there?"

"Yep."

"Buck on patrol?"

"Yep."

Chris nodded and they fell into an easy silence. Vin had met up with Buck as he and Josiah escorted a couple of drunks to the sheriff's office to sleep off the alcohol that had turned them from everyday cowboys into demons from hell. He glanced, surreptitiously, at Chris's bright green eyes as they scanned the saloon, watching them linger momentarily before Chris gave a slight nod. Vin flicked his own eyes in that direction fast enough to catch the fading smile of acknowledgment before Ezra turned back to continue with his self-appointed task of relieving the cowboys of their hard-earned cash.

His glance around took in the completely male scene, apart from Inez. After the death of Wicks the girls from Wicks town had gone their separate ways, no longer bound by impossible debts. A few of the working girls had tried to set themselves up here but Mary Travis and her civilized prejudice had soon seen them scurrying off to a more hospitable town. Vin was not certain whether he ought to be pleased or not. On the one hand he hated the way that woman looked down her nose at those less fortunate than herself, feeling it her god-given duty to protect the respectability of the town but, on the other hand, it meant Chris was here alone rather than upstairs paying some willing whore for a few hours of relief.

Chris winced in annoyance as the boisterous antics of a couple of drunks caused a small fight that threatened to take over the whole bar but Vin noticed Josiah wading in just in time, his large frame and powerful hands dragging the miscreants apart and dragging them both outside to cool off.

"Rough crowd tonight."

"Yep... and noisy too."

"My room's quiet."

Vin's eyes widened at the softly spoken words, one look into the smoky green eyes letting him know that more was being offered than just a quiet drink. He nodded, his heart hammering in his chest in realization that he was about to get what he had been dreaming of since almost that first day their eyes had met.

No further words were needed as they pushed back from the table and nudged their way through the reveling cowboys to the batwing doors, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses clenched in suddenly nervous hands. Vin's furtive glance around was caught in another green gaze and he saw the narrowing of those eyes followed by an approving smile before Ezra dropped his gaze back to his cards. The thought of someone... no, not just someone but somebody who knew them, knowing what he and Chris were about to do should have given Vin some cause for concern, but he knew they were in safe hands.

Vin followed Chris the short distance to the boarding house and up the back stairs to the small room Chris had been given rent-free as part payment for his law keeping activities. It was not until the door had closed behind them that he realized exactly how nervous Chris was, watching as Chris sat down to remove his boots with trembling fingers. Vin decided that he ought to make the next move, slowly taking off his hat and dropping it onto the dresser before stripping the mare's leg and holster from his hip. The heavy buckskin coat came next and Vin shrugged out of it and lay it over the back of a chair. Reaching across he took the whiskey from the tense fingers and poured each of them a shot. When Chris replaced his emptied glass on the dresser, Vin leaned across and captured the hand. He brought it up to his lips, sucking gently on the tip of each long finger.

Their eyes met and in that moment Vin realized that Chris expected to be the one doing the mounting. He gave a small smile. Bedding another man was nothing new to him, the Comanche were very open about such things, finding nothing demeaning or unnatural in the act. While he had lived among them he had taken and been taken, could remember the pleasure attached to each memory as if it were only yesterday.

Over the years he had been approached by many white males but had never felt inclined to take them up on their offers--until now. As he captured and held the desire-filled eyes, watching the green as it was slowly swallowed by the blackness, he knew he wanted to sink into that firm flesh, wanted to pin the lithe frame beneath his own.

The glint in the eyes and a slight tilt of the head proved Chris had understood his intent but would not readily submit. Strangely enough, this only excited Vin further. They undressed slowly, circling each other like prize fighters as their clothes dropped unheeded to the floor, each wary of any sudden movement that might herald the start to this contest.

****

Chris knew he was at a disadvantage when he saw the easy way Vin was able to kick off his boots and drop his pants, stepping out them too quickly for Chris to press the momentary advantage. He saw the sharp eyes narrow, recognized the confidence that told him Vin considered this match all over bar the fucking, and decided to take one of Ezra's phrases to heart--all's fair in love and war.

Chris stopped circling, his eyes holding the smoldering blue of his partner. He licked his dry lips letting his tongue caress the flesh before nipping the lower lip between his teeth. Chris raised one hand, lightly skimming it across his own chest, finger tips lingering to play with a nipple, waves of pleasure rippling into his groin as the sensitive bud hardened. He smirked as he watched the blue eyes glaze over, no longer focused on anything other than the hand that was gliding across the ridges of toned muscle, teasing aside the buttons of his tight black pants until the fly gaped open. Chris heard a sharp gasp as his hand slipped inside to fondle his own hardened flesh, drawing the shaft free, his thumb smearing the glistening droplet of precome that beaded from the swollen tip. He watched Vin's Adams apple jump as Vin swallowed hard, those blue eyes still caught by the hand that stroked the aching flesh. Chris let go, his shaft bobbing as both hands grasped the waistband of his pants, drawing them down with slow gyrating movements of his hips. He had almost succeeded when Vin pounced, his balance gone as the pants tangled around his ankles. They fell to the bed in a heap, his body trapped beneath the surprisingly muscular frame. He tried to kick off the pants but the heavy weight had trapped him, the strong arms pinning him to the bed as Vin devoured every inch of him, sucking and biting at every piece of available flesh. He could feel the hardness of Vin's engorged shaft pressed tightly against him, could feel the dampness of precome and sweat slicking his belly.

Vin growled in his ear as sharp teeth bit into the lobe, a hot tongue then rimming the shell before flicking inside. The mouth descended, leaving the ache of bitten flesh in its path until Vin latched on tight, sucking and biting, his body thrusting against Chris. Just when Chris believed Vin had lost total control he felt cool air along the length of his chest and legs, but it was short-lived.

His shout of surprise was muffled in the pillow as Chris was neatly flipped onto his stomach. He tensed, trying to buck off the weight that dropped onto him, muscles tensing as his knees were forced apart, his ankles still tied together in a denim shackle.

"Realized something, Chris?"

Chris tried to rise but a firm hand held his arm in a lock against his back, pinning him to the bed with all Vin's weight.

"Well? You realized something yet?"

The tone was more insistent, a shove on his back made his upper arm ache and he nodded, gasping out his submission.

"Yeah."

The pressure eased, hard hands gentling as they smoothed the hurt, massaging his arm before settling onto his shoulders and back, easing tensed muscles. He felt himself relaxing as Vin shifted his weight, those hands drawing Chris up onto his knees until his ass was fully exposed. He resisted for a moment as he felt a finger rimming the edge of his anus then forced himself to relax as the finger slipped inside, slowly thrusting in and out. He found his own hips rocking back onto that finger, setting up a slow rhythm. A second finger eased inside, opening him carefully, as Vin's other hand reached beneath to grasp his rigid shaft.

Chris bucked into the hand that was slowly jerking him, his own need filling him as he waited in morbid anticipation for Vin to take his prize. Finally, he could take no more, his hips thrusting back onto those fingers hard, feeling them rake across the special gland deep inside. Waves of exquisite pleasure coursed through him, his shaft growing harder still and he pleaded huskily.

"Goddammit, Vin. Do it!"

Chris sighed in relief when the fingers withdrew, feeling Vin position himself behind him. He gasped as the swollen head of Vin's shaft breached the ring of muscle, could feel the burn of the stretched flesh as he teetered on the razor edge between pain and ecstasy. Vin paused, and Chris could feel the trembling of his lean thighs through their joining, realizing that Vin was desperately trying to hold onto his control.

"Fuck that!"

Chris shoved back hard, his voice a keening cry as he impaled himself fully on the thick, rigid shaft, the front of Vin's thighs slapping hard against his spread ass cheeks. Vin cried out, the guttural moan falling from his lips.

"realized wan' it hard.. I'll give it to you."

He withdrew almost to the tip then slammed back in to the hilt, driving Chris along the bed with the force of his lunge. Those strong hands grabbed Chris around the hips, dragging him back, holding him firm as Vin withdrew again then tugging him back as he plowed back into the willing body, deepening the penetration as if Vin was trying to crawl into his body through his asshole.

Chris cried out, sweat pouring from his body as pain and pleasure intermingled until there was nothing but the intensity of over-stimulated nerve endings. He grasped his own shaft, unable to do more than allow the hard pounding into his ass dictate the rapid movement of his hand across the sensitive glans. He felt his own body spiraling out of control, pleasure coursing like liquid fire along his nerve endings, igniting every cell of his body until he reached the overload, every muscle tensing as his orgasm rushed over him.

Behind him Vin stiffened, and Chris felt a flood of heat bathing his innards. He rode out the remainder of Vin's climax, his body crushed into the mattress when Vin collapsed across his back.

"Oh fuck. That was..."

"Yeah."

****

With a shuddering sigh, Vin carefully pulled his softening shaft from its tight sheath, his fingers easing back the foreskin on the oversensitive tip. He flopped to one side, and raised his fingers in fascination.

"Wha..?"

Vin sat upright, his eyes wild with horror as he looked at his blood-smeared fingers.

"Damn. I never meant... Chris?"

"Hey.. it's okay. Likely just a little tear. Ain't done this for a long time."

Vin leaped from the bed and soaked a cloth in water from the jug, bringing it back to the bed where he forced Chris to lie still while he cleaned up and checked over his lover.

"Why did you let me hurt you?"

He dabbed the cloth over the swollen muscle, watching the blood ooze from a small tear in the rim.

"Didn't hurt me none, Vin."

"Like fuck I didn't."

"Hey?"

Vin shook off the hand that grasped his forearm, appalled with his loss of control that had made him take Chris so savagely, angry at Chris for allowing it to happen. Chris pushed himself over and grabbed Vin's hands by the wrists.

"Said you didn't hurt me none. You calling me a liar?"

Vin met the anger smoldering in the green eyes and sighed, his own anger ebbing away, replaced with a heaviness of heart. He shook his head, reaching out with one hand once his wrists were released to caress the lightly stubbled cheek. He leaned forward and touch his mouth to Chris's parted lips, feeling them soften beneath him as they shared a moment of tenderness. He did not resist when Chris pulled him into his warm embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they lay back down on the bed.

Vin sighed as fingers tangled through his hair, playing with the strands. Being with Chris had been everything he had dreamed of... and more besides. The intensity of his passion had shaken him to the core of his being and he knew he wanted more, but not if this savage rutting meant hurting Chris.

Finally, he slept, curled up into the warmth of Chris's body.

****

Vin was gone by the time Chris awoke, the sheets beside him already long cooled. Chris sighed, realizing that it was probably a fear of them getting caught together that took Vin from his bed so silently--and so early. He had hoped to snuggle into the warmth of Vin's body, perhaps enjoy a little morning relief.

An hour later Chris was leaning on the post just outside the saloon, his breakfast sitting comfortably in his stomach, his lips pursed around the thin cheroot, drawing the sweet tobacco into his lungs as he enjoyed the slightly euphoric sensation of the drug as it worked its magic.

He had given his word to take some confidential messages from Judge Travis to the commander of the temporary garrison situated about a days ride from the town. The army had been sent in to assist the local towns in hunting down a gang of vicious Comancheros who had swathed a path of mayhem across the length of the territory. Chris figured on stopping there overnight and heading back in the morning.

Chris ground out the burning tip of the cheroot, tucking the remainder back into his pocket to enjoy later. He glanced up the street before stepping off of the boardwalk onto the dusty ground, striding purposefully towards the livery where his black waited to be saddled. Years of experience made short work of saddling his horse. He tightened the cinch and then mounted up, pressing the gelding forward with a jab of his heels.

Chris had been half-expecting Vin to be waiting in the livery for him, if only to see him off. Disappointment was followed swiftly by annoyance. He did not own Vin despite all that had happened between them last night and, just maybe, he had put more meaning on that night than Vin. He jabbed the gelding a little harder than was truly necessary, the black leaping forward, obviously confused by the command that urged him to gallop when his rider's posture indicated a slower pace. The black settled into a smooth gait as Chris rode the length of the main street towards the sheriff's office where Judge Travis would be waiting.

Ahead of him, Chris saw Mary Travis come out of her printer's store, the intent look on her face and the single-minded way she plowed off the boardwalk on an intercept course proof enough that she wanted to speak with him. He cursed silently, feeling obliged to pass the day with her. He hoped she merely wanted to discuss his errand for the Judge rather than embarrass him with more of the blatant courtship dance that she seemed so determined to perform solo. Already the town was talking about them as if they were sweethearts. Fortunately, just as he was about to bow to the inevitable he gained a reprieve in the form of Ezra Standish.

"Mr Larabee, I have it on good authority that you are about to embark on a mission of great import for the Judge. Might I inquire how long this errand will take?"

Chris gave a small sigh of relief and tugged the rein to bring the black away from Mary and over to the saloon where Ezra waited, still resplendent in all his finery, except for the shadow of a day's beard growth. Chris knew the gambler would have been at the tables all night and had probably added a sizable amount of money to his purse. No doubt he was taking in a little fresh air before heading to his room to sleep away the best part of the day. A hint of a smile and a flick of the eyes back the main street made Chris realize that Ezra was on an errand of mercy--and he was the benefactor in this instance. Chris glanced over his shoulder to find Buck engaging a very frustrated Mary Travis in conversation. Chris turned back to Ezra.

"I'll be back later tomorrow."

"And will Mr Tanner be accompanying you?"

Chris stared at Ezra for a moment then flicked a glance in both directions up the main street.

"Don't reckon so. Ezra? If you see Vin... tell him... tell him... Tell him I'll be back tomorrow."

Ezra nodded, his green eyes holding a compassionate look that made Chris frown. Realization came and he gave Ezra a tight smile, a flood of embarrassment heating his cheeks. It seemed that Ezra's attention was not solely on the cards last night after all. He touched the brim of his hat then nudged the black onwards towards the sheriff's office where he could see Judge Travis waiting patiently with JD.

Within five more minutes he was making his way out of town.

****

Vin stood watching from the corner of a building as the black-clad figure rode out of town, his presence and his horse well concealed, his heart quickening at the memory of that lean body in his arms. There was so much he wanted to say to Chris, so much he wanted to do as he thought back to the previous night when all his longed for dreams came true. He should have been ecstatic, floating on air, but instead of hearing the heady cries of passion as Chris writhed beneath him, all he heard were the moans of pain, all he saw was the blood coating his fingers. He had spent much of the night lying there, even the heat of Chris's body unable to dispel the coldness of fear that crept through him as he remembered his savagery.

The sight of Mary Travis storming back to her office with an unrepentant Buck Wilmington grinning inanely at her back was enough to jar him from his thoughts. Her anger at being deliberately kept away from Chris was palpable and Vin could not help an uncharitable moment of glee bubbling up inside him. Chris was his.

Vin frowned and cussed under his breath, confused by the myriad emotions tumbling through him as he remembered the perfect fit of his body against Chris. After the way he had treated him, Vin had not expected Chris to be so affectionate, so tactile, those long fingers caressing him, arms enfolding him. It was so unlike the 'hands off' image of a loner that Chris displayed from day to day, so different from the creature he had rutted with only moments earlier. Chris was like a sleek black panther: powerful, sensual, savage one moment, purring the next.

"This is stupid. Stupid."

He kicked at the ground, raising a small cloud that settled over his boots in a fine layer of pale red dust. Chris would be back late tomorrow and he had until then to figure out what he wanted--and then hope that Chris wanted the same.

He glanced up as he saw Buck approaching, swaggering in his usual open manner and Vin felt a moment of envy at the easy confidence so evident in the taller man's long stride. Buck came to a halt in front of him and reached out a hand to give Peso a friendly ruffle of his ears.

"Going somewhere, Pard?"

"Yep."

"You look like a man that needs time to think." Buck clasped Vin's shoulder, the strong hands squeezing gently. "Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

Vin stared into the warm, friendly eyes and saw far more than mere understanding. This surprised him as, of all of them, he would have least expected Buck to understand the attraction of two men. He recalled JD mentioning that Buck's mother had been a working girl, that Buck had been raised in a brothel. It occurred to Vin that, just maybe, he had misjudged the man, that Buck was probably the most open-minded of the Seven about matters of the flesh. Vin grabbed at Buck's arm as he started to walk away.

"What of Mrs Travis?"

Buck turned back and gave Vin a wide gin.

"You and I know Chris don't care for her much, least not that way. Mary Travis is no Sarah... and that boy of hers sure ain't no Adam."

Vin found an answering smile, looking away shyly at having it confirmed that Chris had no intentions towards the beautiful but ice cold widow. He mounted up, gave Buck a nod and then turned Peso away, slowly riding out of town to his favorite thinking spot.

****

Chris had been riding for five straight hours when he came across a small spring. He decided it was as good a spot as any to rest up for a couple of hours until the worst of the midday sun had passed. The black snorted once in a while to blow away the flies that hovered around his eyes and nose. He had not pressed his horse hard for the last hour, merely plodded along, the rein loosely held yet, despite that his horse was sweating from the heat, white salt marks and trail dust marring the normally glossy coat. Chris saw to the gelding's needs first, stripping off the saddle and removing the bit. He watched as the black lapped up the water from the small watering hole, talking to him soothingly, then Chris dropped himself into the shade between two large rocks, dug the half-smoked cheroot from his pocket and lit it. He tipped his hat forward and closed his eyes, letting the tobacco calm his thoughts as he drifted into his memories of the night before.

Since Sarah died he had found himself mostly alone in a crowd, watching life's little dramas being played out as if he were but a spectator in the theater of life. As always it had surprised him when the ranch hands came back each weekend, full of eagerness to part with the few dollars they had worked so hard to earn. Some were fresh from the bathhouse, their one concession to cleanliness, washing away a week's worth of dust and sweat from their bodies in an attempt to gain favor with the one or two working girls who had not been run out of town by Mary Travis. Eventually, all these ranch hands had headed for the saloon, downing gut-rot whiskey reverently, like it was holy water, before turning their attention to more lucrative forms of entertainment--and had found Ezra waiting for them with a 'taking candy from a baby' look on his face.

Last night had been no exception and a couple of the brawls that had threatened to turn into something ugly had been quickly quelled by Josiah and Buck. He had seen Josiah return alone after he and Buck had escorted the last batch of miscreants to the jail, and had not been surprised to see the familiar figure of Vin Tanner hover on the threshold a short time later. Vin had glanced around the bar, obviously searching for someone and Chris had known, instinctively, that he was that someone. He had seen Vin's face soften when eventually, Vin had spotted him over in the corner, the black thunder clouds disappearing beneath a hazy, almost bashful smile as Vin slid into the seat next to him.

Chris took another long draw from the cheroot, wondering what had caused such a black look on the otherwise congenial man but, at the time, he had decided not to ask. Instead he had slid across the still almost full bottle of Red-eye in welcome.

Despite the poet that lurked beneath the surface, Vin Tanner was a man of few words, which suited Chris just fine. They rarely needed words anyhow, reading the minute changes in each other's expression instead. Chris frowned when he remembered how that darkness had crossed the handsome face once more. The only other time he could remember seeing that particular expression was when Mary Travis was around... and particularly if she or her boy were holding his attention.

Jealousy?

Chris knew Vin had no great feelings for Mary so the jealousy could not have been aimed at him for holding her attention. It occurred to Chris that, just maybe, Vin had deeper feelings for himself than he had expected of the younger man. Oh, he knew how he felt about Vin, the way his heart beat faster every time he so much as pictured the other man, but had never suspected that Vin could feel the same way for him.

And why not?

Chris remembered the savagery of their coupling, the hard thrusts that had burned through him, sending his senses reeling. Then he remembered the horror on Vin's face afterwards, when the other had seen the physical evidence of such unrestrained passion. But it was nothing, just a small tear that hardly bothered him none, certainly nothing to get all uptight about, and yet it was obvious to Chris now that Vin had been upset, unable to reconcile the violence with his gentler nature.

"Damn it, Vin!"

Any other thoughts were swept aside as the thunder of dozens of hooves reverberated through the rocky terrain. Chris leaped to his feet. It was far too late to try and saddle up then ride away, he would have to face them--and hope they were a decent group of men.

The first of the horses rode into the clearing, the rider reining to a halt and staring hard at Chris.

"Hey, Gringo."

"Don't want no trouble. Just stopped to rest my horse and grab a bite to eat. Then I'll be moving on."

The man leaned forward on his saddle, his wide grin showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. Chris stood his ground as the rest of the gang rode into the clearing, ranging themselves around him, their horses snorting and pawing the ground uneasily. Behind him Chris could hear his own horse whinny nervously, and though he gave no outward sign, Chris knew he was in big trouble. He did not realize how big that trouble was until the last two men entered the clearing, a bruised and bloodied Indian woman slung across the saddle in front of each man. The women were dropped to the floor and Chris realized, with a start, that they were still very much alive--and Chris's hope of getting out of this situation unscathed plummeted.

He kept the hard, uncaring expression on his face as his eyes swept across the two terrified women, deciding that it might be best to play this loose, get out of there then see if he could figure out a way of freeing the women later.

"Please... do not leave on our account. Stay a while. Drink with us."

"Much obliged but..."

Chris set to saddling up his horse, feeling the predatory eyes burning a hole in his back but making no sign that it bothered him. He froze as the menacing tones dripped over him.

"I was not _asking_ you to stay."

Chris turned, his eyes sweeping along the semicircle of malevolent faces, seeing the mixture of blood lust mingling with eager anticipation upon each man as they grinned at him. Chris pursed his lips. The vocal man of the group had a look on his face that said 'leave and I kill you'. This was one instance when mounting up and riding away without a backward glance would only gain him a bullet in the back. Perhaps a better opportunity would present itself later, once these Comancheros had bellies full of food and tequila. Chris stepped away from his horse, hands raised to show he had no intention of drawing on them and waited while the men dismounted. He dropped back down into the shade of the rock and re-lit the cheroot that he had cast aside when he heard the approaching gang. He watched them through narrowed eyes as they set up camp; it was obvious that they intended to stay here for the rest of the day and night.

It did not take much intelligence to figure out that this was probably a splinter group of the Comancheros being hunted by the army. A cry of pain dragged his attention back and he clenched his fists in frustration as one of the gang forced his attentions on the younger of the two women, pulling her heavy skirts up around her waist and raping her with quick brutal strokes. Once he had his release, the Comanchero pushed the woman aside, readjusted his clothing and reached for a bottle of tequila, taking long gulps of the fiery liquid then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He laughed and kicked at the sobbing woman as the other squaw crawled forward. Chris felt so useless. He could hear JD's voice in his head...

_Aren't you gonna do something, Chris?_

But what could he do? If he tried to intervene then they would kill him. Simple as that... and what would that gain those women? If he waited then he might be able to get all of them away from here--alive.

_And if I wait too long then they might just kill those women first._

The bitter thought twisted around his head along with another thought that, if it had been someone he cared about then he would not be having this conversation with himself; he would have acted. Fortunately, the lust of the one man did not trigger off the others and they left the huddled women alone while they finished setting up the camp. The smell of beef roasting on a spit made him realized where some of that missing cattle had gone and it seemed like divine justice that the greedy cattle ranchers should lose a head or two to feed another bunch of desperadoes.

As the afternoon drew on, Chris knew the time to act was fast approaching. The gang seemed to have stopped paying attention to him, too caught up in their own pursuits--mainly drinking, eating and taking a siesta. Chris moved slowly around the camp fire, making it seem like he was going to take another sliver of the roast beef. His horse was saddled bar tightening the cinch but he doubted he would be able to do that without drawing attention to his activities. When the time came he would have to take his horse as he was and hope the saddle was secure enough. One or two of the Comancheros horses were still saddled up, probably as a safety precaution, and Chris would try to grab at least one of those for the women to ride.

He sank down to his haunches by the fire, close to the women, and glanced surreptitiously towards them then, keeping his voice soft and low he spoke.

"Speak English?"

The brown eyes of the older women flared in interest and she nodded her head quickly

"Gonna try and get us out of here. Need you to be ready on my say."

Another quick nod.

"Hey Gringo. What are you doing?"

Chris sliced some meat off the roasting joint and held it up for the inquisitive man to see, then popped it into his mouth. The man nodded his head, still gaging Chris through narrowed eyes, then sank back against his saddle, a rifle held loosely over his lap. Chris stood up and stretched, then moved towards the edge of the camp.

"Where are you going?"

"Take a leak."

"I'll go with you."

"Don't need no help holding it."

The man grinned but still climbed to his feet, the rifle held ready in his hands as he indicated to a private place behind the rocks. The man stayed several steps behind and watched as Chris unbuttoned his fly.

"What the damn...?"

Chris jumped back a pace, staring into the gap between the rocks where he had been about to urinate. The Comanchero drew closer, curiosity getting the better of him, and it took just one swift backward jab with his elbow for Chris to knock the man to the ground. Chris grabbed the rifle and brought it down hard on the man's head, checked he was out cold then sneaked back towards the camp. He held his hand over his gelding's mouth as he urged the black to follow. He nodded at the Indian woman and noticed her shushing the younger squaw, drawing them to both to their feet and moving slowly backwards.

Chris made his way around the outside of the camp, quickly unhitching one of the still saddled horses. He froze as the familiar voice of the leader spoke up.

"Hey, senoritas. Where are you going?"

The man lunged for the elder woman, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her back. She struck out at him viciously, slicing across his cheek with a sharp piece of rock she had concealed in her hand, drawing blood. He swore and backhanded her, her body slamming against the rock. Moments later he was on top of her, his legs forcing hers apart, hands digging beneath her skirts.

Chris leaped out and dragged him off, punching him hard in the face. He turned to yell at the women, tell them to make a run for it and saw both sets of dark eyes widen in fear. Chris looked back over his shoulder in time to see the rifle butt descending. He fell to the ground, flashing lights filling his vision.

The head Comanchero was standing over him, the man leaned down and dragged Chris up by his shirt front, his fetid breath making Chris gag.

"Don't want us to have fun with the women? Perhaps you are jealous? Yes... perhaps you want to be our whore."

He was dragged to his feet and thrown sideways, crashing into another Comanchero. The man laughed and grabbed Chris's shirt, tugging hard, the buttons popping, then shoved him aside into the waiting arms of another. Hands tore at his clothing, at his hair. Chris raised a fist and struck back hard, his effort earning him several body blows, doubling him over. He fell to his knees but was dragged back up by his hair, his mouth taken into a parody of a lover's kiss before he was thrown onto the next man. The sting of a knife blade against his lower back was followed by the feel of fresh air against his ass, his pants falling aside as the material was sliced open. His head was spinning, from the rifle blow, from the pummeling of fists, from the way he was thrown from man to man. His boots were stripped off and hurried away as prizes, the remainder of his clothes burning his flesh as they were ripped from his body.

Chris tried to buck off the weight that settled behind him but strong arms held him down, he looked up and through dazed eyes saw his belongings being stripped from his saddlebag, the men fighting over who would take his horse. Then came the searing pain that lanced through his whole being as his body was breached. He screamed out in rage, trying to tear himself away from the incredible pain. Suddenly, the man's weight dropped onto him like a stone, flattening him to the ground. The others who had been holding him let go, racing away with panic stricken faces, grabbing guns. Through fading vision Chris saw a wooden shaft sprout from a man's chest then all that was left was the sound of fighting, of yelling and whooping as he gave into the pain.

****

Dusk was settling over the small town but Vin Tanner hardly noticed, his full attention on the street leading out of town, searching the horizon for a lone rider. Chris said he expected be back before nightfall but there was no sign of the man. Vin felt a presence coming up behind him and knew it was Ezra from the scent in the air. A smile curved his lips as he wondered what Ezra would say if he ever told him that his expensive soap--all the way from San Francisco--set him apart from the rest of the town.

"I gather there is still no sign of Mr Larabee."

"Gather right, Ezra."

"Perhaps he decided to partake of a small libation in Eagle Bend before continuing his homeward journey. Or perhaps..."

"Yeah. Perhaps."

"You do not appear to be convinced, Mr Tanner."

"Said he'd be back afore night fall. Has kept his word since Jericho."

Ezra sighed and leaned heavily against an upright beam.

"Perhaps he needed some additional time for contemplation."

Vin turned, his eyes gazing deep into Ezra's, trying to read the meaning of his words.

"Mr Tanner? Mr Standish?" Vin glanced around and saw the Judge striding towards them, a telegraph slip in his hand. "We may have a problem.

Vin felt something flip inside his gut but waited, outwardly calm as Ezra reached for the paper and read it.

"It seems Mr Larabee never reached the garrison."

Vin snatched the paper, cursing his inability to read well, but his finger drifted across two words together that he recognized: No Larabee. He shoved the paper back at Ezra and strode off down the street towards the livery.

"Mr Tanner? Where are you..?"

Ezra touched the Judge's arm, attracting his attention.

"I believe Mr Tanner intends to track down our erstwhile leader and, unless there is more information you wish to impart, I believe I shall be accompanying him."

"No. No more information. I'll wire the garrison, let Commander Harris know a search party is being organized from this end."

Ezra straightened his jacket, gave the Judge a polite nod and headed for the livery, gaining Buck's attention on route and letting him know what was going on. JD went running off towards the church while Buck's long legs carried him up to Nathan's room. When he reached the livery, Ezra found Vin busily saddling up Peso.

"It would make more sense to wait until daylight before pursuing this course of action."

"For you maybe. Me. I ain't gonna wait for sunrise."

"Then at least restrain yourself for a few moments longer and allow me to saddle up."

Ezra could see a wild look in the blue eyes, glinting almost maniacally in the failing light as dusk gave way to night, but he gave an inward sigh when Vin gave him a tight nod. Vin mounted up then waited, figure tense, reins grasped tightly ready to give the signal to move off. Ezra managed to delay just slightly, but could sense Vin was coiled as tight as a spring. The delay was enough as Buck and JD charged into the livery with Josiah and Nathan close behind.

"Ain't got time to wait for this."

"Yes you have. He's our friend too."

Vin turned his head aside, his cheeks heating at the anger behind Buck's words, inwardly cussing himself. Chris had asked him to go along with him, not so much in words as in gestures, but Vin had wanted time to think things through. He thought a day's grace would give him all the time he needed, yet now, all he could think of was the time he had been alone he could have spent by Chris's side.

Time.

Of all people he ought to have known that time was something priceless, never to be wasted. Chris had offered him everything he had dreamed of, but at a price he was not sure he wanted to pay. Now, he realized he wanted Chris at any price; just to touch him again, to hold him, to feel that warm flesh surrounding him, easing his own burning need.

As soon as the last cinch was tightened, Vin kicked against his horse and was flying along the main street, the thunder of hooves behind him testament to the presence of the others. He barely registered the surprised looks on people's faces as they swept off into the night.

****

A gibbous moon hung heavy over the night sky bathing the open stretches of flat terrain in bright moonlight, reflecting off the parched earth. Long shadows fell from the scraggly trees but Vin was only slightly at a disadvantage by the lack of daylight, easily reading the trail of the lone rider by the notch in one of Chris's black gelding's shoes. They rode for almost six hours, Vin stopping now and again when the horse's prints disappeared among some of the rockier tracks. Ahead of him he could hear the gurgle of a small spring, realizing it was an ideal place for any weary traveler to stop. If he had any sense then Chris would have stopped there to pass away the hottest part of the day.

The beating of wings and patter of feet warned Vin that all was not right within the clearing as various carrion eaters fled from the approaching men. In the light of the almost full moon, Vin could see the remnants of a fierce battle. Several bodies lay abandoned in death, pierced by arrows, blood congealed on their faces from where their scalps had been removed by the victorious Indians. Vin crouched low over one man, seeing the half-mast pants, an arrow sicking out of his back. He flipped the man over. It was not hard to imagine what this man had been doing just prior to being killed, the blood on his exposed shaft told its own story. Vin felt a tremor of fear race through him.

"Vin?"

Vin shook off the dark premonition and looked towards Nathan, noticing the increased amount of white showing in dark eyes that were wide with fear. He felt that terrible flipping in his belly as he reached out for the object held in Nathan's open palm. It was a button, an every day item, commonplace... but the sharpshooter's eyes knew better and Nathan's shocked look confirmed his worst fears.

"Found pieces of torn clothing. Same as Chris was wearing when he lighted out... and his hat."

Buck started cussing loudly, kicking madly at one of the dead bodies and Vin could only watch, stunned like the rest of them as Josiah and JD dragged Buck away.

"Bastard!!!"

Buck tore loose from their grasp and started back in on the corpse. It was only then that Vin understood the rage, his own heart plummeting to the depths of despair when he realized the corpse was wearing Chris's boots.

"No!"

Ezra grabbed hold of Vin by the shoulders, his green eyes piercing his own, voice rough with emotion barely held in check.

"Is he here?"

"W-what?"

"Is he here? Is Chris here?"

"I-I..."

"Then I would suggest you do what you do best, Mr Tanner."

Vin swallowed hard, his body shaking with shock, breathing harsh. He nodded, biting his hand in the hope that the pain would bring his own emotions back under control. He moved out to the perimeter, following any tracks into the rocks but found no sign of Chris, dead or otherwise. Only one other set of tracks remained and that was from the band of Indians that had attacked the camp. The possibility that the Comanche had taken Chris did not fill Vin with any hope as they were, obviously, not disposed to be friendly with the gang of men who had been camping here. The likelihood was that they had taken any survivors for one reason only; to watch them die slowly and painfully.

Vin closed his eyes, letting his breathing shallow out as a small glimmer of hope filled him. He knew the Comanche, he had lived with them and seen their methods. They would keep a victim alive for days with their slow torture, believing the longer it took the more of the man's spirit would be released, making them more powerful. Chris was a strong man, a fighter. He would last a long time and that gave Vin a chance to find him while still alive and maybe barter for his life. Vin looked around at the pale faces, seeing shock and tiredness but he knew there was no time to stop and rest. Time was something of a luxury that Chris could not afford. His felt a coldness seep into his heart as he looked at his friends.

"Can't afford to stop and rest up. I'm going on."

With that Vin reached for the reins of his horse and saddled up. The others took a moment to trade glances then climbed onto their own horses, galloping into the night behind their tracker.

****

They reached the Comanche village as the first light of dawn streaked across the clear sky, swallowing up the stars and robbing the low-lying moon of its brilliance. Smoke drifted into the still air from a dozen tepees and already there was the bustle of women going about their chores, preparing for the day ahead.

"I ride in alone."

Buck reached out and grasped the fringe on Vin's jacket but Vin forestalled his words.

"They ain't too disposed to be welcoming to white folk at the best o' times. Right now, I reckon they'd sooner shoot you than talk to you."

Buck sighed, knowing Vin was right but it was obvious that he did not like the thought of Vin going in there alone. They all knew that something bad must have riled up the Indians and those feelings might still be riding high.

Vin gave a small kick to spur Peso onward, leaving the others behind in the relative safety of an overhang. Dogs started barking the moment he drew near the village and, soon after, Vin saw Indian braves pulling back the flaps of their tepees and stepping out with weapons at hand. The women drew closer to their menfolk, their eyes full of curiosity. From the corner of his eye he spotted Chris's black gelding tied up with the Indian ponies, a final confirmation that he had tracked the Indians to the right place. The black snorted, recognizing either him or Peso, one hoof pawing the ground as he strained at the rope.

Vin made his way through the village slowly, heading for the largest tepee near the center. He watched as an imposing warrior stepped out as he drew close, an impressive war bonnet of eagle feathers giving Vin reason to be wary. Vin reined to a halt about ten feet away and gave a friendly gesture of greeting to the chief. For a moment he was uncertain if the chief would respond, the darkness on the face proof that anger still drove him.

Vin gave an inward sigh of relief when the chief gestured peace, albeit reluctantly. Vin dropped down from his horse and walked forward until they were standing a bare three feet apart. When he spoke he reverted to the language of the Comanche.

"I am seeking a man. A man you may have taken captive two moons ago."

"We took many men captive two moons ago."

Vin nodded. He had counted the tracks of twelve shod horses, thirteen if he included Chris's black but only three bodies were found at the spring.

"This man is not a Comanchero. He is a white man. Hair the colour of sunlight, eyes the colour of the soft moss that grows on the rocks by the water's edge."

"The men we took captive committed a great crime against the People."

Vin took a deep breath. He had already figured out that it had something to do with the presence of two unknown females at the camp, and if that was the case then Chris would not have been part of that crime.

"The man I seek would not have committed this crime against the People. He traveled alone."

The chief narrowed his eyes then indicated towards the rear of his tepee with the lance he held before stalking off in that direction. Vin followed him, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, well aware of what he was about to be shown. He steeled his heart, trying to prepare himself for the sight. Behind he could hear the footsteps of other villagers, their curiosity compelling them to follow on behind.

Vin swallowed hard when, a few minutes later, he came upon the tortured men. Some had already succumbed to their slow and painful deaths, the remainder had lost the ability to cry out, their minds lost to the pain. A tousled blond head, hanging so low it concealed the features, brought Vin up short. The body was marred by bruising and scorched by fire and the man was obviously dead, but Vin closed in eyes in relief. He would know Chris anywhere, his mind had mapped the lean body of his one-time lover, seared every inch of it into his brain from the long, lean thighs, the firm muscular ass to the slender, agile fingers... and this was not that body. The relief was short-lived as Vin began to wonder if he had missed something, some sign that would have lead him to the man he loved. His voice was heavy with grief.

"The man I seek is not here."

"Come. Eat with me."

Vin turned, about to refuse the hospitality but saw the implacable look on the Chief's face and nodded in acceptance. He followed the chief back to the tepee and into the dim interior. Inside it was spacious with one side set apart as a sleeping area, separated by a curtain of buckskin. He could see the dark, shiny hair of two women working carefully behind the low screen, could hear the sound of water being squeezed from a cloth. Vin made to sit down in front of the fire that dominated the center of the tepee, watching the wisps of smoke curl upwards, funneled out through the small vent at the top.

"No."

The chief indicated another position, one that would normally be taken up by the chief himself as it afforded a complete view of the interior. Vin sank down, bending and crossing his legs in front of him, head bowed as he tried to gather his thoughts so he could decide what action he should take next. Whatever it was he knew he would not give up the search. No matter where Chris had gone--or been taken--he would find him, even if it took the rest of his life.

Vin raised his head, his weary eyes finding the chief's, absently noticing the barely veiled curiosity in the dark eyes that bore into him.

"This man you seek. You wish to harm him?"

"No. He is a friend."

"Perhaps he is more than a friend?"

Vin held the gaze a moment longer, and nodded, knowing there was no prejudice among the Comanche for the kind of friendship he had found with Chris Larabee. His eyes narrowed when the chief's eyes drifted towards the screen, purposefully. Vin's eyes followed, his lips parting, heart racing when he saw a glint of gold shining above a swaddled figure. He saw only compassion, and the small trace of a smile when he glanced back at the chief. Reading the unspoken permission, Vin rose to his feet and walked on unsteady feet into the enclosed area, sinking down beside the huddled figure. In the dim light he could see the purple, green and red bruising that marred the handsome face, beautiful green eyes swollen shut, the luscious lips split and puffy.

Vin's hand reached out to push a strand of hair off the tall forehead, wanting to see that face again, feel the warmth of living flesh under his finger tips, no matter how battered. Chris stirred beneath his hand, the soft moan caressing Vin's ears like the sweetest song for it proved Chris was alive. His eyes opened to mere slits but Vin could see recognition in them.

"Hey, Cowboy. Ain't looking too good."

"Ain't feeling too good."

"Got some friends who've been a mite worried about you."

Chris tried to smile but Vin could tell it hurt too much. Vin lowered his voice almost to a whisper.

"Been worried about you too, Cowboy."

Chris frowned, his eyes sliding away and Vin could tell there was something important Chris wanted to say to him. He waited patiently, already fairly certain what was going to be said.

"Got myself took by..."

"I know. Don't change how I feel about you, Chris. Still want you. More now than ever."

Chris nodded again and Vin could tell, even through the fatigue and pain written across the battered features, that Chris was reassured. He stroked the soft hair as Chris drifted back into a restorative sleep, a small smile playing about his swollen lips. Once Vin was certain Chris was asleep he stood up and went back to the chief, sitting down across the fire from the warrior.

"He could have escaped on his own but he went back to free my wives--and they caught him. Take his horse and his belongings. Go in peace."

Vin nodded, reverting back to native language.

"I will gather his belongings then return for him."

Vin pushed aside the door covering and stepped outside, the sun warming his face, his heart already warmed with the knowledge Chris was alive and, in time, would be well. He wandered through the village to the string of horses and pulled out the black, petting the horse warmly in greeting. Looking around he saw the stack of saddles stripped from the horses and sorted through them until he found Chris's. With quick, sure movements he saddled up the black. The reins and bit were missing so Vin made do with what was on hand. In another pile were the gun rigs and saddlebags. Vin recognized both of Chris's easily but the gun itself was missing, however it was a small loss considering. Vin secured those items onto the saddle and led both the black and Peso back towards the chief's tepee and found the chief waiting for him with Chris held in his arms. With a grunt of exertion, and with a little help from Chris, the chief and Vin got him settled onto Peso in front of Vin. Vin reached down and clasped the chief's arm in thanks then tugged on the reins and turned Peso away.

They were most way through the village when a brave ran up alongside. Vin stopped and nodded in thanks when the man handed up a gun--Chris's gun. Vin reached under his jacket and pulled out his hunting knife, handing it over handle first and saw a grin of pleasure crease the warrior's face at the gift. Vin smiled. His hunting knife could be replaced easily but Chris's gun was a far more personal possession and so well worth the trade.

****

**A week later:**

Vin curled tighter around the warm body held in his arms, nuzzling into the fine golden strands that feathered out from the nape of Chris's neck. His lips pressed against the heated flesh and he heard a murmur of approval come from in front. Their lovemaking had been slow and easy, each man taking time to explore every inch of the other, learning what gave the most pleasure. It was a far cry from their first time which Vin could only describe as a rut. He sighed, his body still throbbing with the power of his release, every sinew, every nerve ending still tingling and aching pleasantly. Chris had wanted to be taken, insisting he was healed, wanting to erase the memory of the rapist from both his mind and his body, and Vin had agreed but only on his terms.

The way Chris had cuddled up to him following their first time had led him to believe Chris would be a sensual creature. He hoped Chris would enjoy the slow burning pleasure that grew between them as he licked and kissed and stroked every curve and line of the body laid out before him. His fingers had danced along the rib cage, his tongue had swirled around a nipple eliciting moans of passion. He had covered each and every bruise with soft kisses, never allowing any of his weight to fall upon the still damaged flesh.

Vin smiled as he remembered the way he had lovingly prepared Chris's body with soft caresses of tongue and oil-slicked fingers, enjoying the way Chris had relaxed beneath him, his body becoming pliant and open. It had been so hard to keep his own desire leashed, desperately wanting to reclaim the beautiful man that writhed wantonly with every touch. When he knew Chris was ready for him, Vin had surprised Chris by lying down on the bed at his side.

Vin let his thoughts travel back to the slow lovemaking...

With gentle gestures he encouraged Chris to straddle him, watching the understanding dawn on the confused features. Vin wanted to make sure Chris controlled this final part of their lovemaking, afraid that the weight of his body pressing onto Chris would send his mind crashing back to the rape and the anonymous figure that had mounted him. This way Chris would know whose thickened shaft filled him, and it would allow Chris to set a pace that both his abused body and mind could accept.

There was a moment of tension when Chris first settled over Vin's hardened flesh, a quivering in the strong thigh muscles and a fleeting expression of fear.

"Look at me."

Vin had commanded softly, holding the fear-tinged eyes with his own, giving Chris strength through the silent bond that had existed between them from the first moment their eyes had met across a dusty street. He felt Chris grasp the base of his shaft, holding it firmly, guiding him against the relaxed and well prepared ring of muscle. There was a momentary flash of pain, so easily readable on the face he had come to know better than his own, but it passed quickly, a sigh of relief falling from the parted lips. Chris sank so slowly onto him, the heat and tightness of the muscular channel clamping around him, squeezing him on all sides. It took every ounce of control not to buck up into that incredible heat and Vin found himself biting into his lower lip, hoping the pain would give him a brief respite from the sensations that flickered along his nerve endings, setting him aflame with desire and need.

Vin moaned, his hands still clenched tightly in the sheets, eyes screwed shut as the full weight of Chris's firm body rested upon him, loving the feel of the smooth ass cheeks against his thighs. He opened his eyes, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the beautiful figure poised above him. His hands reached up and caressed the length of the torso, sliding easily along silky flesh slicked with a fine layer of sweat. The sweet masculine scent of his lover overwhelmed him, clean yet musky, mingled with the faint aroma of tobacco and whiskey. Vin let his hands slide across the strong chest, his fingers tangling in the smattering of fine, dark blond hairs, thumb pads teasing across lust-tightened nipples. He smiled as Chris arched his back, eyes fluttering closed, head thrown back as Vin tweaked each hardened bud between thumb and forefinger. His ass rocked gently, internal muscles rippling with pleasure, sending frissons of desire coursing through Vin's body. Vin continued playing with the sensitive nipples, enjoying the increased pressure on his shaft, mesmerized by the droplet of sweat that ran down the side of Chris's face, dripping onto the well-defined chest when Chris leaned forward.

Strong, lean thigh muscles tightened, and Vin groaned as Chris raised himself, feeling the soft inner wall gliding along the length of his shaft, dragging across the sensitive tip. He gasped when Chris dropped back down onto him, the firm ass smacking against Vin's thighs. Vin found his hands tightening around the slim hips, thumbs digging into the soft abdomen and it took all his control to ease that bruising grip. He wanted to lift Chris than slam him back down, wanted to arch up into the descending body... he wanted to flip Chris onto his back and pound into the willing flesh. He sobbed when Chris took pity on him, rising and falling with a steady rhythm, internal muscles clenching hard as pulled off, easing only slightly when he dropped. Vin reached out and grasped the erection that bobbed in front of him, sliding his hand up and down the shaft in perfect synchronization, the remnants of oil mingling with precome easing the friction.

He could feel the trembling in those thighs increase, the corded muscles standing out from the strain. Chris froze, head thrown back, and Vin watched as hot, milky fluid spurted over his hand, splattering his chest. The thigh muscles gave out, the body sinking around him as Chris collapsed, totally spent. Vin's hands held the hips steady and he continued thrusting, the erotic sight of his hardened flesh sliding into his lover sending his mind and body soaring, hips snapping upward as he filled the heated channel with his own seed.

Chris collapsed across his chest, smearing his own release between them and Vin found his arms tightening around the much loved body. Eventually they regained control of their breathing and Chris pushed himself upright, the semi-hard shaft still filling him. He grinned down at Vin, soft green eyes full of pleasure and contentment, before pulling away and flopping down to one side.

Several minutes passed before either felt willing to move and Vin rolled off the mattress, dipping a cloth in water from the basin before returning to the bed. He swiped the cloth across his lover's muscular chest, moping up the sticky, spent seed before urging Chris to turn onto his stomach. He eased the cloth down the crease between the pale ass cheeks, surreptitiously checking for any damage, letting the coolness of the water soothe the swollen muscle as he washed away the residue of their lovemaking.

Vin paid quick attention to his own sticky flesh then lay back down, pulling Chris into his arms until Vin was curled against Chris's spine... bringing him back to the present.

Vin hugged the warm body, his mind and body finally at ease. He smiled then leaned forward to kiss the nape of his lover's neck. Everything he wanted was right here in his arms and if fortune smiled on him then the time for solitary reflection had long passed, the recent events proving, once and for all, that life without Chris by his side--and in his bed--would never be worth living.

THE END


End file.
